Breakneck Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #3)

27. As You Wish, Kitten

Chapter 27

As You Wish, Kitten

Sutter

A lderchuck is the last thing that should be on my mind. I have real issues to deal with, the least of which is a promise I made to an impressionable teenager that I have no idea how to fulfill. The search for a family member is going cold. I’ve exhausted all my favors. They can’t stay with the Meyers forever. Or can they? Is that wrong? I can support them financially, but I’m so not ready to be a dad. The little one doesn’t even like me.

Know what? It makes perfect sense why I want to think of Alderchuck. He’s become the most uncomplicated thing about my life. When the fuck did that happen?

With all the shit that’s been going on, making my big move to make us official’s been put off. It’s not right, and I want to correct that before we move into the playoffs. Time’s running out on that end too. It’s March. We’re about a month and a half out from said playoffs.

My solution? I stay clear of Alderchuck. Why? Because now every conversation, every line of text, every interaction has become about “is now the right time to ask him”? My head’s muddled with it “being the right thing”, while my dick and body agree that he’s fucking ours, so what’s the big deal?

My heart? It’s terrified. I’ve never been so scared in all my life and that’s saying something.

Never mind, I think I just succeeded in complicating Alderchuck, too. My life is officially a mess I can’t unravel.

On the Ice

N ever mind the never mind. I found a distraction—Henry Otterhammer. I have a bone to pick with that motherfucker anyway, but he reminds me of his existence when I see him flirting with my Alderchuck during warmup.

He leans in close, so I launch a puck in their direction. I don’t particularly care which one of them it hits, but it banks off Otterhammer’s helmet, so good for me. Casey looks up, the “oh shit” written all over his face. Sure, he wasn’t flirting back, but he’s so damn oblivious to how many men want him that it’s fucking infuriating.

I skate over, showering them with ice as I slide to an aggressive stop, pretending to retrieve my puck “Whoops! Sorry about that.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Sutter.” Casey knows what I’m planning.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Alderchuck.” I know exactly what he’s talking about, but they can both learn a lesson as far as I’m concerned.

“Oh, boy.” He skates away, wanting nothing to do with my revenge, knowing there’s no talking me out of it.

The only problem is, Otterhammer’s a goalie. You’re not supposed to fuck with goalies. It’s an unspoken rule that can get you dog piled by the opposing team. Does that mean it’s not done? No, of course not. There’s the option of harassing the shit out of him when the refs aren’t looking—which I will definitely do—but that’s not going to be good enough for me.

I let Otterhammer know with my eyes that he’s a dead man and head back to my side of the ice.

Vancouver loses the face off, and I skate up the ice alongside Nic, slapping my stick against the ice, letting him know I’m there.

Wham! Into the boards I go behind a hefty check from Alderchuck. “Don’t, Sutter. C’mon, he’s the goalie,” he says, in case I haven’t noticed.

“He wants to fuck you.” And it’s pathetic. Alderchuck turned him down. He should back the fuck off after that alone. But he didn’t and he’s not, so let’s make sure he gets the Goddamn message this time.

I tap Alderchuck with a nice cross-check that the refs miss, and skate away, tearing across the ice. I over skate after the puck, which means my legs are moving too fast to bother stopping. I use Otterhammer’s body, flying into him. I land half on top of him as he spins out of his little blue area known as the crease. But I guess he’s only stupid enough to flirt with my man, not to figure out what I’m doing. His padded fists crack down on me. I fight back, knocking him in his mask-covered face.

“Alderchuck is mine. Keep your hands to yourself, or your stick’s going up your ass,” I warn him.

That’s all I have time to chirp—if a threat about my Alderchuck can be considered a chirp. Two Vancouver players join the fray, attacking me, but I’m living for this. I want the fight. Whistles scream, but we keep going. I lose my gloves. Knuckles crack helmets and faces. My lip splits, and a metallic tang blooms across my taste buds.

It takes all the referees, linesmen, and other players to break up the fights—fights plural because I guess some other ones broke out while I was on the ground. I’m sent straight to the penalty box for two minutes. I use the time to dream up more ways to pulverize Otterhammer. He laughs at me from his net, but the joy of victory sings through me. I got a good hit on him and only got two minutes plus a few bruises for it.

I spend the second period fucking with him. I screen the fuck out of him, elbow him, nudge him, even poke check when the opportunity arises, and plays are too involved for the refs to notice me. But his teammates notice, and they already don’t like me, so it’s reason enough for them to rough me up, earning themselves penalties in the process.

I’m paying so much attention to the other players, I think Alderchuck’s feeling left out. He thrusts his stick out with zero finesse or stealth, catching my blades, sending me spinning like a starfish into the boards. Fuck. That’s gonna hurt when the adrenaline wears off. The whistle blows and Alderchuck’s carted off to the box. I’m left to contend with his twin, who I have to admit’s one helluva hockey player.

“You made your point, Sutter,” he says when we’re in the Boston zone.

“Have I, though?”

During the intermission, Crawford—our goaltender—approaches me. “Let me deal with Otterhammer,” he says.

“I can take care of my own shit.”

“I know you can, Sutter. But this’ll kill two birds with one stone for me.”

“Do you have beef with Otterhammer, too?”

“That’s one way of putting it.” He raises his brows. Yeah, okay. I see how it is. They might need the same talking to Alderchuck and I got at the beginning of this season.

“Yeah, fine. Go nuts.”

The puck’s barely dropped. Crawford drops his gloves, and every hockey fan knows what that means—goaltender fight. They’re so rare and with good reason, it tends to set off mayhem. This one’s no different.

Otterhammer’s stick and gloves are gone. He heads for Crawford like a heat-seeking missile with the linesmen quick to intercept. But it’s already too late. Fights break out everywhere. All over the ice, it’s madness.

A s soon as he’s in the door, I’m on him. We’re breathing heavily, sucking face. I work on getting his clothes off as fast as I can. I slam him against the back of the door.

“Fuck, Sutter.”

“I want you so bad, kitten.”

I maul him some more while he’s shirtless, tweaking his nipples, teeth scraping his jaw. I sink my fingers deep into his hair.

This is mine. He’s mine.

“I can’t believe what a jealous asshole you are,” he says, but he’s smiling.

“Tell me you don’t love it when I fight in your honor,” I say between sucking face. God, he tastes so fucking good.

“Nah. It’s kinda hot. Plus, I love how you look when you’re all beat up.” He takes in my bruises. He can probably taste blood from my split lip. Casey should have more battle bruises than he has, but my team knows the penalty for pounding on him. Only I get to, and I was busy teaching Otterhammer a lesson all game.

“Good chat.” I start ripping at his clothes as he paws at mine, my belt buckle jangles.

“Play … Playoffs start next week,” he says.

“Fuck the playoffs.” I shove my tongue down his throat.

He pulls away.

“What the fuck, Alderchuck?”

He grips the collar of my shirt, which is still on. My jeans are open, my dick bulging against my cotton briefs.

“We won’t see each other for a while after this.”

Once playoffs start, there’s no chance of us playing each other unless our teams make it to the final round for the cup.

“And?” I try to read him. Try to pull the thoughts from his head before he says them. I’m usually good at reading Alderchuck but, frazzled as I am, I get nothing.

“We’ve been doin’ the exclusive thing. Is that?—”

Oh. I get it.

“You’d better not be asking to fuck anyone else, kitten.” I grab his jean-covered ass. Why are these still on? “This is mine.”

A smile cracks his lips and makes it all the way to his eyes. That’s short-lived. He bites his lip. Uncertainty fills his gaze. He’s doubting this. Us. Our arrangement. Fuck that and fuck Logan and his bullshit. I should have done this my way from the beginning.

But—and I hope to fuck they never find this out—I steal a page from the RhettLo book and link my thick pinky with his, my heart beating so damn fast.

“Be my boyfriend, Alderchuck.”

“Did you just?—”

“Yes, or no?”

“What if I say no?” He smirks.

I nibble at his neck. “You won’t say no.”

“No.”

I pull my lips off him. He’s grinning. “You should see your face.”

“You and fucking Jack with that shit,” I say. “Now tell me yes.”

“Alright, already. I’ll be your boyfriend. Begging isn’t a good look on you, Sutter.”

“You’re already the most annoying boyfriend on the planet,” I tell him, and I fucking mean it. But my heart’s all fluttery and shit. This feels better than I thought it would. He’s officially mine.

I resume eating his skin.

He flattens his hand against my chest. “Hang on a sec. I gotta tell Jack.” His hand slips into his jacket pocket.

Tell Jack? What the…? I snatch the phone from his hand and toss it on my couch.

“Hey!”

“You can call him later. Right now, you belong to Daddy.”

“Sutter, if you ever fucking say that again, I’m gonna—mmph.”

I slide down his body, yanking his jeans down with me. I mouth at his cotton-covered cock. It’s solid. Straining. Fuck. He stops talking and starts moving his dick against my lips.

If he thought I was possessive before, I’m about to reach unreasonable levels now that we’re official. But first, death by cock sucking.

“Brace yourself.”

“You’re not that good— ahhh . Um. Fuck, Sutter.”

And I go on to show him that, yes, I am that good.

M e sucking his cock was just the warm-up. There’s a lot more I plan to do to him in my bed. I smacked his bare ass and told him to follow me. I step foot in my room, with no Alderchuck in sight.

There’s … laughing? Who the fuck is he—Goddamn it. He phoned Jack, didn’t he? Sure as blazes, he struts into my room on his phone. I shuck the rest of my clothes off and glare daggers at him.

“Shit, Leslie. I’d better go. My boyfriend is totally pissed at me right now. He’s such a pain in the ass. He?—”

“Alright.” I snatch the phone for the second time. “Bye, Jack.”

This time I shove his phone in the bedside drawer and make a mental note to keep him away from that bedside drawer.

“My first act as your boyfriend is gonna be beating your ass, Alderchuck.”

“Nah. It was using your mouth like a vacuum cleaner on my dick. Thanks for that, by the way.”

He steps toward me, pressing our naked bodies together, but I haven’t thawed out yet.

“Oh, c’mon. I was excited to tell him. We had this bet going that I lost. He said that if you declare yourself, I have to get a tattoo—his choice.”

I shake my head. “No. You’re not getting anything else stupid inked into your skin.” Though a “this ass belongs to Mitchell Sutter” tattoo wouldn’t go amiss.

“Being my boyfriend doesn’t mean you’re the boss of me, Sutter.”

It sure as fuck does, but I’m not bothering with that argument right now. It’ll start a war, and the only thing about to happen in the next few minutes is me shoving my bare cock into his ass.

“But anyway, I’m safe for now. He deemed your declaration not declaration-y enough. He’s holding off till then. Whatever that means.”

I toss Casey on my bed, and fish for some lube. “I’m sick of everyone. They need to mind their damn business. Doesn’t Jack have his own man to annoy the fuck out of? I signed on for you, not Jack.”

Aha! Success. A nice full bottle, too. He’s gonna be sore tomorrow. But I want his dick in me too. If we’re gonna go bareback for the first time, we’re gonna claim each other.

“Hate for you to find out this way, but signing on for me includes Jack. And my brother. And Dirk and Dashie. Mostly Jack, though. Does that change things?”

I push his legs open and toy with his pucker. It’s one I’ve entered so many times, but tonight it’s different. Tonight, I get to feel every inch of him. He’ll take my cock, and it’ll be pressing against his insides with nothing to shield it.

“You’re mine. End of story.” I guess I can put up with his friends. I like Mercy. Maybe I’ll befriend the coach. That seems like the play.

He’s biting his lip again, but this time his gaze is glued to my dick. “Are we gonna do the thing?”

“So many times.” I dip a lube-slicked finger into him. His mouth drops open, and his body goes slack. I fuck him with my fingers until he’s moaning and writhing like the needy slut he is. My needy slut now.

“Come up here a sec, Sutter.”

I expect he’ll slap my face, but I go anyway. He grips my neck and pulls me in for a slow-motion kiss.

Then he slaps my face.

“Alright, fuck the daylights out of me, babe.” He laughs, even though my face has morphed into murder, but I only have myself to blame.

And he’ll only have himself to blame for what I’m about to do to him.

“Oh, shit,” he says.

At least he’s figured it out.

I position my bare cock at his open hole, trying to remember when the last time I did this with anyone was. It was a long time ago when I was a young idiot. This is my first time with someone special.

I never imagined Alderchuck would be someone special, but he is.

I sink my dick home in his silky channel in one long shove. We groan relief at the same time, and I stare down at him while I’m joined with his ass. We’re tender for about two seconds, but then the possessive beast inside me takes over and all I wanna do is pound him. Claim him.

My hips pull back and slam forward, hitting deep inside him. It’s not deep enough, so I try again. Nope, still not enough. I’m relentless, pulling cries from him with mighty hefts of my pelvis.

“Your ass is gonna remember who owns it, Alderchuck, every time your blades hit the ice.”

Fuck, he feels so good, his slippery channel squeezing my cock. It takes all my restraint to hold back. I don’t want this over quickly, but he’s making it hard. My dick already finds Alderchuck the most arousing thing on the ice and in bed, experiencing him with nothing between us is a whole new level of sexual ache.

His hand reaches for his cock, my hand’s quick to stop him. “You know the fucking rules, Alderchuck.”

“C’mon, please, Sutter. I can’t handle it. It’s so good. Your dick’s gonna be the death of me.”

“And I’m gonna break your hand if you try to touch your dick again.”

He whimpers. I slow my thrusting, watching his reactions, paying close attention so that I know he’s enjoying the way I take him apart. I take pride in knowing my Alderchuck and making him feel good.

His hand circles my wrist, breathy cries leave his mouth, he chases my dick.

“There. That’s the fucking … oh my God that’s your actual dick.”

“It’s always been my actual dick, kitten.”

“Yeah, but now I can feel it. Holy shit. That’s hot.”

“Know what’s hotter? I’m about to fill you with my load, baby. Fill you so fucking full.”

My cock throbs and I hit a moment of pure bliss. I keep pushing, pushing, till I’m fucking my cum into him. I grip his cock in my hand.

“Let’s see you cum, kitten.”

White-hot cum shoots in spurts, decorating his abs. His jaw slackens and a stilted pleasure-filled groan falls off his lips. I let my body fall on his, meshing with his sticky cum, and nuzzle my face against his, kissing his cheek. We’re waxy with sweat and he’s breathing into my ear, the heavy rise and fall of his ribcage calming to a peaceful rhythm underneath me.

I don’t pull out. I’ll stay inside him as long as I can. He’s gonna have to get used to me inside him like this.

“I want a turn, Sutter,” he says, tracing over one of the bruises he left on my face. In a quick move, he spins us, landing on top. I’m flat on my back with one hundred and eighty-five pounds of Alderchuck staring down at me.

“We both know that ain’t happening until you get your mid-fuck snack.”

“Then feed me, babe. I wanna stake my claim on you.”

“As you wish, kitten.”

We barely get any sleep. It’s not till both our asses can’t take another round that we finally pass out in an exhausted hump. If he doesn’t know he’s mine by the end of that, I’ll have to tattoo it to his body so he can read it in the mirror every fucking day.

A lderchuck looks good in my Copperheads hoodie. I showed off my bun-tying skills—I’ve done Isla’s hair enough times for dance—pulling his hair back for him so that he doesn’t get food in it. I tie one of my bandanas around his head for good measure.

What he was saying last night’s starting to kick in. I won’t see him until either the end of the playoffs, or if Milton’s worst fears come to life and the world gets a Boston-Vancouver final.

“Sit your ass in that chair. You’re staying for breakfast this time. You stay for breakfast every time now.”

I’ve gone from zero to sixty. My brain has him moving in with me and clearing out closet space for him. I’m not crazy enough to voice that out loud just yet, but if he thinks he’s spending a day without me during the off-season, he’s wrong. Moving in together makes perfect sense.

“You’ve got your planning face on, Sutter. It’s worrying me.”

“Nothing bad. Here, eat a banana so you don’t get hungry waiting for breakfast.”

“First, you should know I’m already starving. Second, eating phallic-shaped food in front of you isn’t the move or I’ll never get real food. I’ll help myself to a light pre-breakfast snack from your fridge.”

Probably for the best, or all I’ll be feeding him is my cock.

I get a full spread in front of him as quickly as possible before his stomach eats itself.

“So how did Jack and Mercy do it when they weren’t working with the same team?” I ask, finally sitting beside him with my coffee. Yeah, beside him, not across. I want to be as close to him as possible. It forces him to shuffle

“It’s better now that they’re on the road together, but before that, it was video calls every day, whenever they could fit them in. Jack’s a lot happier with Stanley there, too.”

“They tote the baby around?”

“Actually, he’s almost one. Can’t believe that, but yeah. Two of Merc’s brothers travel with them too. They make it work. Besides, I swear to fuck, Meyers are born ready-made for the hockey life. Why? You trying to figure out us?”

I take his hand, which is a dangerous thing to do while he’s trying to eat, but this morning he’s willing to eat with the one.

“Maybe.”

He pauses. “Gotta say, I’m fucking shocked, Sutter. So far, you’re a decent boyfriend.”

“That feels like an insult.”

“It’s not. And I’m not gonna lie to you, you’re kind of a dick.” He’s smiling, though, so he must not mind that so much. But then he frowns. “We probably don’t have much choice other than to do video calls.”

“One of us could get traded,” I throw out there.

“Not me. I’m staying with my brother.”

“It can’t be me either. Boston was my dad’s team.”

Silence falls over us. I creep my fingers to fiddle with his hair, forgetting I tied it into a bun. Don’t like that. I’m ripping it out as soon as he’s done eating. I settle my big hand over his shoulder.

“Okay, then. Video calls it is,” I say. This is gonna suck. This is why I don’t do this. But this time I need to. I need to be with him whatever the cost.